Friday, 28 October 2011

PO Johnson

train 1 

calibrate Venus celestial
take the Cleveland steamer
to the wet grave  
the active surge regions are
spike like
exotic dancers and kept woman before barb wires
the chromosphere hunt
in the oozing
rain forest

I am inside the circle
interplanetary medium tells her she is
the space between planets
lovely void of pink layers 
lenient belly bottom
projectile clearing the rain
parting with the
delicate sheets of stratosphere
for nothing

PO Johnson is currently dividing his time between Norway and Holland. He loves space mechanics, industrial rock and baroque. He is also a dedicated husband and a salsa dancer. 

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Jukka Kaukinen

Aqua Dip

Jukka Kaukinen is 37 years old. He loves to eat ice cream in the winters and drink warm beer in the summers and write and dribble with art inbetween. 

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Neil Ellman

Clock of Destiny

(after the watercolor by Wassily Kandinsky)

Time is no matter
in the timelessness
     of molecules
     spatial aimlessness

     no clocks
     numbers mean nothing

zero the some of its parts
hour-hand circles
      speed of light


it is 3:00 pm        
in a blink of the eye.

Neil Ellman lives and writes in New Jersey (USA).  He has published numerous poems, many of them ekphrastic, in print and online journals anthologies, broadsides and chapbooks throughout the world.

Sunday, 9 October 2011

Jukka Kaukinen

Ain’t No Hen 

Jukka Kaukinen is 37 years old and lives in Stockholm, Sweden. He writes and dabbles in art in his spare time. He works with maritime education and sales.  

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Michelle Gaddes

55 Days of Rain

55 days of rain.
Long days.
Defected, once infected.
Pointless investments.
Little or no return.
Recede into ink.
Muted, wet jubilations.
Writing sustains, will
sustain in orphanages
of dry solitude.
Tired skin.
Midnight comforts
once more.
The historic sunlight –

Snowy Mountains Highway

It is spring once more. Sullen poppies bloom on roadsides,

aware of their short days. Purple dials face skyward and their

kinky bendy bodies pave the way right up to the mountains.

Black ice has melted. Wombat carcasses, too, form garlands

and their wafting fumes, unmistakable, invade your nostrils

as you drive by. Their old faces melt slowly –

Baby brown snakes are out early looking for reptile thrills only to

wind up in a small sun-soaked town. Flat, in a gutter, a small

child’s amusement, stinking to high heavens.

And fireweed has one its war – baffled farmers retreat with

defeat and hope the best for the livestock. Defiant yellows stand

erect under the thrashing midday sunlight. Their placards travel

fast with the winds.

Remnants and dreams dot the paddocks. Windmills smile down

upon travellers. And apple gums hope for the best.

Michelle Gaddes was born in Sydney, Australia, and lives on the far south NSW coast. She completed her B.A in Community & Environment with the University of Wollongong in 2005. At the end of 2011 Michelle will have completed her M.A in Writing and Literature (Deakin University). Her two poetry compilations, Pariah and Aurora Borealis (Ginninderra Press) will both be released in 2011.  Michelle has had other works published online in Danse Macabre, Zygote in my Coffee, Carcinogenic Poetry and Gloom Cupboard, to name some. She is a PhD candidate at the University of Canberra in 2012.